


Destined

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set firmly in FireFighterVerse from Changeling</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destined

* * *

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

 

Jack O'Neill still remembered the first time he saw her.

  


"What have you got?" he asked, well aware that he was treading on thin ice with the fellow fire captain. Jack's own bars may still glitter with a factory shine, but he knew Ed, and knew that Ed would cut him some slack.

  


"Jack, don't you ever take a day off?" Captain Ed Williams responded, glancing at Jack for a second before he turned his attention back to the sight before them.

  


"Just happened to be passing by," Jack answered. And he had been. He wasn't a scanner chaser like some others that he knew.

  


Ed nodded. "A kid was climbing the tree," he explained, motioning towards the rest of his crew, clustered around a large tree.

  


"That rotten thing?" Jack asked, frowning at the tree that had to be nigh on a century old if it was a day. It was close to ten feet around and bare wood was visible where the bark had worn off. "It should have been cut down years ago," he said. Then again, people were reluctant to cut down the same tree their grandparents had played in and on. "How the hell did he get up there?" Like most old trees, this one had no lower branches.

  


"Ladder," Ed answered, pointing out the short aluminum ladder lying off to the side. "He was doing pretty good until he fell inside. It's hollow."

  


"Damn," Jack answered, putting together the scenario. "You can't use an ax or saw for fear of cutting the kid." 

  


"No chain saw because that dry wood will flame in a heart beat. Not to mention the shock and trauma of cutting it down at the base and having a couple of tons of tree falling over and turning the kid into putty," Ed answered.

  


"There's not much left," Jack said, glad that he didn't have to make the decision, one that could cost a kid his life.

  


"Carter's trying to pull him out."

  


"Carter?"

  


"Probie. Just transferred in. Bit of a smart ass but nothing you can't live with," Ed said, intently watching the rescue.

  


"PULL!" One of the men yelled and Jack watched as a pair of dark clad legs were pulled out of the tree trunk, followed by a dirty and sweat soaked torso. The rest came out in a rush of pale skin, light hair and a jumble of limbs.

  


The gathered onlookers cheered as the young boy was carefully lowered to the ground and handed off to the waiting paramedics and one frantic mother. The probie clambered down the ladder as her crew mates congratulated her on the rescue.

  


"Damn," Jack said, taking in the woman's trim figure and appealing features, not diminished in the slightest by a layer of sweat and dirt.

  


"Yeah," Ed said. "Wish they made probies like that back in my day."

  


"No shit," Jack muttered, staying put as Ed stepped forward to check on his crew.

  


XXX  


  


_Like any two people that worked for the same company, their paths crossed off and on over the years._

  


_He stood back and watched as she and her crew cut their way into an overturned school bus, fighting the ticking time bomb of a leaking gas tank._

  


_He found himself sitting in his office, listening to the radio chatter as her truck, along with ten others, fought the biggest factory fire in recent years._

  


_Somehow, it didn't seem odd that he followed the trials and tribulations of her engine as avidly as others followed the Dodgers._

  


_Then came the day when he ended up volunteering to fill in for her captain when Ed fell through a floor and was on medical leave for six months._

 

XXX  


  


Sam Carter still remembered the first time she met Captain Jack O'Neill

  


"He was out!" T loudly proclaimed, rearing up in the recliner with such force that the furniture actually creaked. 

  


"Dude, he was not," Lorne said, cramming a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

  


"You need glasses," T shot back.

  


"All of you need to shut up and wait for the replay," Captain Reynolds said.

  


"Real baseball doesn't need replays," T said. "Does it, Sam?" he asked, trying to draw her in.

  


Sam shook her head, taking a sip of her Diet Coke as she tried to stay out of it. It wasn't that she didn't like baseball. She did. She just didn't follow the sport with the same passion as her crew mates.

  


"Well?" T nudged her, the tempered strength in his massive hand at odds with the image he put forth. T was huge, almost twice her size, and impressively strong. Under all that muscle he was a huge softie…who could be as stubborn as a Missouri mule if the mood struck.

  


"Real baseball doesn't have the advantage of ten camera angles and sodium lights," she said, reaching for the popcorn. "Not to mention multi-million dollar contracts."

  


"It doesn’t matter, they're still going to lose," Kelly said.

  


"It's just the sixth inning," T protested.

  


"And they're down by five."

  


"Make that six," Sam said, cringing as the runner crossed home base.

  


"Who's the ump?" T asked. "That dude's house better not ever catch on fire."

  


"I don't even want to know what you'd do to the guy that came up with the designated hitter rule," a voice said.

  


Caught off guard, Sam sat up, nearly dumping her bowl of popcorn. "Jack, I wondered if you'd show up tonight," Captain Reynolds said, getting to his feet to greet the man.

  


"I was in the neighborhood," Jack replied, stepping forward to shake Reynold's hand.

  


"Folks, this is Captain Jack O'Neill," Reynolds introduced. "He's been working over at Hillside for the past couple of years. And he's on TDY here until Ed's back on his feet." They all got out of their chairs and stood to greet the man. "Jack, this is Sam Carter, T Abraham, Mike Kelly and Evan Lorne," Reynolds introduced.

  


"Good to meet you," Jack said, smiling at each of them in turn.

  


He stood a little taller than Sam, probably coming in a bit over six feet and was as lean as Reynolds was stocky. Lanky was probably the term her mother would have used, especially since he didn't seem to go for the bulky muscles that T and Kelly preferred.

"T, that's an interesting name. Stand for something?"

  


"No."

  


"Yes," Lorne spoke up.

  


Sam closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable exchange of words. "Teremesha," Kelly said, taking a huge step away from T. "His mommy liked funky names," he teased.

  


"Sounds more like his mother liked ancestral names," Captain O'Neill corrected.

  


"It's Swahili," Sam supplied. She didn't have much patience for Kelly. In fact, few of them did. But despite his adversarial attitude, he was a good fire fighter, and knew when and how to leave the attitude aside and do his job.

  


"As you can tell, my Ma was Irish. Nothing wrong with family names."

  


Sam sighed, grateful that he hadn't pushed T about his name. It was a sensitive point with him, especially after years of being mocked and teased. 

  


"Jack's first tour is tomorrow at seven so it'll be a couple of days before you guys work with him," Captain Reynolds said.

  


"I look forward to it," O'Neill said, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

  


"Yeah man, see you Thursday," T said, reclaiming his seat.

  


The two captains exchanged a look. "I'll see you out," Reynolds said. Sam stood there until they left the room before she sat back down, the baseball game the last thing on her mind.

  


XXX  


  


_Captain O'Neill turned out to be a good fit at Station Seven. Good enough, in fact, that when Ed Williams chose to take a medical retirement, his temporary assignment became permanent._

  


_He worked well with the men, and with their only woman. It didn't take him long to get a handle on their personalities. T was good and dependable and he was as quiet as Kelly was loud. Despite being polar opposites, the two men were fast friends. Evan Lorne was refreshingly normal and even tempered and was a good counterpart to Sam Carter. At first, Jack wasn't sure what to make of the female fire fighter. He knew that she had to be good, she wouldn't have lasted this long if she wasn't. She and Lorne made a good pair and they worked well together, his common sense and practicality meshed well with her sometimes over the top risk taking._

  


_She was smart, Jack could see that. Too smart to spend her days putting out fires. And it was something that Jack wondered about every once in a while._

 

XXX

  


  


"Cap, we got a problem." Jack looked up form the blue prints he was studying and glanced past Fire Fighter Kelly at the smoke pouring out of the building.

  


"More than the hundred year old historical building that they're wanting us to save?" he asked.

  


"We just pulled this guy out. He knows what's down there." Kelly pulled a guy forward and pushed him towards Jack.

  


"Well?" Jack asked, glaring at the filthy and soot smeared man. He was dressed like a typical researcher, khaki pants, a ripped and stained dress shirt and a frayed polyester tie.

  


"We were just doing regular research," the man said. "It's a double blind study on the effects of—"

  


"Tell him what's in the other lab," Kelly interrupted.

  


"It's a hot room," he blurted out.

  


"It gets better, Cap," Kelly said. "The guy that was doing the research, he's still in here, pinned under debris."

  


"Oh for cryin out loud," Jack groaned. "ROBINSON, get over here!" he yelled, summoning the building manager. "No one said anything about a hot room," he said to Kelly as the survivor edged away towards the waiting paramedics.

  


"The way he's acting, I don't think they're supposed to be doing whatever it is that they're doing in there."

  


"What's wrong?" Robinson asked. "Will you be able to save the façade?"

  


"Why didn't you tell me that there's radioactive material in that building?" Jack demanded.

  


"What?"

  


"Down in 102," Kelly said.

  


"That's Doctor Geller."

  


"What's he working on?"

  


"I don't know."

  


"I thought it was your job to manage this building," Jack asked.

  


"It's full of scientists," Robinson defended. "They're protective of their projects. As long as the rent's paid in time—"

  


"Son of a bitch," Kelly muttered.

  


Jack sighed. "Get me the Geiger counter." Kelly nodded and hurried to the truck while Jack grabbed his radio, telling dispatch to send in HazMat.

  


"Cap." Kelly handed over the Geiger counter and Jack took it. "This is Engine Seven, evacuate the building. I repeat, evacuate the building," he said into the radio.

  


"Cap, Carter's in there trying to get that guy out."

  


"I know," Jack interrupted. "We're fighting this one from the outside. Keep it from spreading but minimize the water so we don't contaminate the storm drains around here. As soon as HazMat gets here, fill them in. No one leaves the scene until they're cleared."

  


Kelly nodded. "What about Carter?"

  


"I'll go," Jack said.

  


"Cap?"

  


"My crew, my responsibility," he said, unwilling to order another to expose himself to a potentially lethal substance. Protocol or not.

  


He geared up and made his way into the building, sending the men out as he encountered them. They all had radios and had all heard the call but he knew that the radiation might be messing with Carter's radio. Fortunately, the lab where the fire burned was down the hall from the room Carter and the trapped man were, so they were in no immediate danger from the flames. However, the radiation was a bigger problem. At least when fire threatened, you could see the danger.

  


"Cap!" Carter stepped out of the room. "Where is everybody? I got a man trapped."

  


"We're evacuating," he said, yelling to be heard through the face masks. He held up the Geiger counter and turned it on. His stomach sank as the machine crackled ominously, the little red needle swinging dangerously back and forth.

  


"What's going on?"

  


"That room's hot."

  


"Then we need to hurry," she said.

  


"It won't do any good." He held out the Geiger counter so that she could see the gauge. "You took the class. You know what these numbers mean."

  


She squinted to read it through her mask. "It doesn't mean—"

  


"Yes, it does," he interrupted. "He's dead. Too much radiation for too long. And if you go back in there, you're gonna die too."

  


"Cap—"

  


"Carter, you are not throwing your life away for a dead guy. Let's get the hell out of here."

  


She nodded and followed him out of the building, both of them sobered by the grim reality of their jobs.

  


XXX

  


  


_Later, when they though back, the guys could never remember exactly when things changed between Cap and Carter._

  


_Some thought it was after that large wildfire and three weeks of nonstop bushwhacking. Others pinned it down to the day Carter passed out from heat exhaustion and spent the night in the hospital. And some insisted that it was after Cap got too close to a live wire and was nearly electrocuted._

  


_They didn't know it, but they were all wrong. Although no one could blame them. It was a tough time for the crew of Engine Seven._

  


XXX  


  


Sam was suffocating. She threw the covers back and sighed as cool air washed over her body. She burrowed deeper into the pillows, intent upon denying the beckoning wakefulness. She stretched lightly and froze when her toes encountered a leg. A hairy leg.

  


Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head, daring reality to prove her memories wrong.

  


"Ah hell," she breathed as her bleary eyes focused on the relaxed features of Jack O'Neill. 

He was laying on his back, one arm over his head, the other disappearing under the covers. His bare chest rose and fell with the even rhythm of sleep and Sam decided to keep it that way.

  


She slowly edged out of the bed, standing there naked until she saw her clothes lying across the dresser. She got dressed, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness of her skin. The second she got home, she was crawling into the shower.

  


"This is a cliché." Sam startled at the sound of Jack's gravely voice. "Although I thought I was the one that was supposed to sneak out."

  


"It's your place," she reminded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  


"There is that," he said, propping himself up on one elbow.

  


"Cap." He raised his eyebrows, silently protesting the formal title. "Jack," she corrected. "Umm..."

  


"I know. You don't normally do this. It was the booze. It was grief. It was--"

  


"Pretty good," she confessed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "And yes to the other stuff too."

  


He sighed. "Carter, we've been practically living together for the past three years. At least three days a week that is. I know you don't do this. Neither do I."

  


"I miss him," she said, her voice choking. "I mean, he was a huge pain in the ass and irritating and rude and--"

  


"How many times did he save your butt?" Jack interrupted.

  


"A dozen maybe, I don't...I could always count on him and T to be there, you know?"

  


"I know," he said softly.

  


"It was a damn stupid way to die," she said, getting to her feet to pace angrily. "I mean, it's one thing to try and save a life but to die because some asshole was cooking meth? And is too stoned to know whether people got out or not?" she ranted.

  


"Meth heads are rarely known for their dependability," he said calmly.

  


"Don't you dare patronize me," she challenged, turning to face him.

  


"I'm not patronizing you," he said, sitting up. "Shit happens and sometimes we get caught in the crossfire."

  


"I'm afraid to die like that," she said softly as she sank down on a chair. "I know he didn't go fast," she said, looking at him.

  


"Sam." He looked away, clearly reluctant.

  


"You know," she said. "The coroner told you, didn't he?"

  


"Don't go there," he warned, shaking his head.

  


"Jack--"

  


"Sam, you've seen enough crispies to know--"

  


"Jack, please."

  


"He fell through the floor," Jack said. "There were chemicals both on the main floor and in the basement. Going by how much of his tank was used, they think he was conscious for a few minutes although we'll never know how aware he was. Ten to fifteen minutes after he fell, his heart stopped. Whether from the pain and terror or the chemicals, they can't tell." He stared her in the eyes. "That good enough or do you want the autopsy photos?" he challenged.

  


"It's good enough," she whispered, her stomach churning with nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol she'd drank. True, she and Mike Kelly had never seen eye to eye and had butted heads more than once. But they'd gone through the academy together and saved each others' butts more times than anyone could remember. And, as much as he annoyed her or angered her, no one deserved to die like that.

  


Jack pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Hew crossed over to the dresser and drew out a pair of boxers, pulling them on before he turned to face her. "So?" he asked after a second.

  


"So," she said, not looking at him.

  


"I'm not going to say I regret last night, because I don't," he said, sitting on the side of the bed. "But, what's more important--"

  


"I don't regret it," she said, finally looking at him. "It's just..." she trailed off and he waited. "I'm not going to be known as the company whore."

  


"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, a bit of anger creeping into his voice. He got to his feet. "God, I would never..." He paced and pushed his hand through his hair before turning to face her. "Sam, this wasn't some quick lay or some conquest." He squatted beside her and took her hand. "This is something I've wanted for a very long time," he said. "And something I'd love to continue."

  


"Really?" she asked sarcastically.

  


"It's not just sex and you know it," he bristled.

  


She felt herself flush and she sighed. "No. It's not just sex, at least not for me."

  


"It's not for me either," he agreed, reaching up to cup her cheek. "I think it's something that...that could probably be a whole lot more."

  


She nodded. "And that's why I don't want to screw it up."

  


"I can transfer," he said. "Go back to Hillside."

  


"Then we'll never see each other," she said.

  


"Sam, you know as well as I do that if it comes out that we're seeing each other, yourcareer--"

  


"Six months," she said. "If this is still...in six months if we still feel the way we feel, one of us will transfer.

  


"Your annual review is in eight months," he said.

  


"Exactly," she smiled.

  


"Okay. Six months it is." He moved to get to his feet.

  


"But." She grabbed at his hand. "If we can't keep this out of the station..."

  


"Then we'll do something," he promised.

 

XXX  


  


  


_While no one at Engine Seven could ever pin down a precise day when 'it' started, they all knew precisely when everything changed._

  


XXX  


  


Jack O'Neill heard sirens. That was odd. They never turned the engine sirens on until they were ready to enter traffic. Was his crew leaving without him? No, that couldn't be right. 

  


The sirens were getting louder. Had they left without him and were coming back? Why were they wasting time with him? They needed to answer the call. 

  


He tried to get out of bed to get his crew moving. He stopped short when pain shot through his body. Fueled by a burst of adrenaline, he forced his eyes open, dazedly staring at the control panel of his truck.

  


"What the..."

  


He slowly pushed himself away from the steering wheel and surveyed the accident scene. His eyes picked out the dangers, despite the new point of view.

  


Smoke slowly curled up from the crumpled hood of his truck. Fluid dripping in the engine block, his mind supplied. The other car - who'd run the red light, he remembered - sat a few yards away, the passenger side door caved in and the windows shattered. On the other side of the intersection, an engine and rescue squad rolled up, just as the other driver staggered out of his car.

  


Deciding that he wasn't just going to sit there, Jack tried to get out of his truck. He realized in an instant not only was his door stuck, but the steering wheel had been pushed into his lap, pinning him into the seat.

  


He pushed against it, ignoring the futility of the gesture and cursed as the deflated remains of his air bag got in the way. "Hey buddy, take it easy," someone said and Jack looked, surprised to see a familiar face. "Cap?"

  


"Lorne? What the hell are you doing here?" Jack asked, his brain still feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges. Probably a concussion.

  


"Not everyone got the day off," Lorne responded, reaching in to check Jack's pulse.

  


"You need to disconnect the battery," Jack said, reaching down to switch the key to off despite the fact that his engine had already died. "And I just got gas this morning."

  


"We're working on it, Cap," Lorne said. 

  


"The other driver's fine, we just need a bus to get here," Carter said, joining them. "Cap?" In an instant, the look on her face changed from business-like to concern. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

  


"I'm trapped in my truck, Carter, what do you think?" Jack asked.

  


  


"We need to disconnect the battery and check out what's cooking off under the hood," Lorne said, ignoring Jack.

  


"I'll stay with him," she said. "What happened?" she asked, sliding off her helmet to lay it on the hood of his truck.

  


"What do you think happened?" he challenged, not bothering to hide his frustration.

  


"You now the drill, Jack," she said, her voice more than a little placating. They tended to do that, Jack realized, remembering that Carter spent a lot of time 'comforting the victims' while the rest worked on getting them out. And Jack now realized why, she was good at calming people down. "What happened?" she repeated.

  


"Jackass ran the red," he said. "I remember that much, I was going through the intersection and then whammo, there he was."

  


"You blacked out?" she asked.

  


"Just for a few," he confessed. "I'm fine," he asserted. "Just get this steering wheel out of my lap and I'll be good as gold."

  


"I hope you're not going to take it personally when we don't just take your word on that," she said as T and Lorne returned, T carrying a pry bar in his massive hands. He applied himself to the hood while Lorne vanished, squatting down to see if he could identify whatever fluid was leaking.

  


"I can feel and move my legs and there's no pain," Jack said. "My ribs are a little sore and the seat belt did a number on my shoulder, but I'm fine," he insisted.

  


"You're still gonna go in," she said. "Because you know the chief won't allow you back to work until you've been checked out anyway, might as well get it over with."

  


"I can't get this hood, man," T said. "We need the Jaws."

  


"I'll get them," Lorne said.

  


"It's not like you need to worry about scratching the paint," Jack called out, starting to feel clausterphobic.

  


"That's not what you were saying last week," Sam teased.

  


"I think door dings are the least of my worries," Jack said.

  


"Look on the bright side, you can go shopping now for a new one." She smiled and he glared. She'd been bugging him about the huge truck and refused to drive it, stating that if she wanted to drive a tank, she'd get her Engineer's license and start driving the engine. 

  


"But I liked this one," he said. "It was all broken in." Lorne returned with the Jaws of Life, handing the tool to T before taking the compressor from another fire fighter, quickly hooking the tool up. 

  


"Afraid you'll just have to start over," she said. "Maybe get something smaller…you know, that guzzles less gas."

  


Jack looked over at her, aware of what she was doing. It was her job to keep him calm and rational and to keep his mind off the fact that he was pinned in his vehicle. "I'm not going to freak out and panic, you know," he said softly.

  


"It'd be fun if you did," she said. "Give us some great blackmail material."

  


"Sam."

  


"You're going to be fine, Jack," she said. "All we gotta do is get you out of here."

  


"I smell gas," he said.

  


"So what'd you have for lunch," she shot back.

  


"You know what I mean."

  


"It would have been better had you not filled up this morning," she confessed, frowning slightly.

  


"Not the gas tank," he said. The back of his truck likely wasn't damaged, so a gas leak made no sense. "The fuel pump," he said, naming the only other source of a fuel leak.

  


"More like the fuel line," she corrected.

  


"You guys gotta get out of here," he said. "With the battery still connected—"

  


"We'll have you out of here in a few minutes," she said, ignoring his words. "We just need to rig a few things up to move that steering wheel."

  


"Sam—"

  


"Don't," she interrupted. "You're not our captain right now, you're our victim. Which means we're in charge, and we're getting you out of here."

  


"Is it bad that it turns me on when you get all bossy?" he asked, winking suggestively.

  


"You're a dirty old man," she teased back.

  


"Ahem." Jack looked past Sam to see Lorne standing there, Sam's helmet in one hand and a length of chain in the other. "Umm, I hate to interrupt." He held up the chain.

  


"I got it," Sam said, cramming her helmet on her head before taking the chain from him. She reached into the truck, trying to wrap the chain around the steering column.

  


"Here," Jack said, helping her loop it around the thick steering column.

  


"We're gonna need to break the windshield," she warned.

  


"I know," Jack said, aware of the procedure. They'd smash out the windshield, then hook the chain to the Jaws and use it's massive hydraulic power to pull the steering wheel up a few inches so that he could get out.

  


"Here," Lorne said, taking off his turnout coat.

  


"Thanks." Sam took it from him and pushed it in through the window as Jack helped her drape it over him, to shield him from flying glass. "Ready?"

  


"Yeah."

  


She squeezed his hand reassuringly and stepped back, getting herself out of the line of fire. "We're ready, hit it," she called out.

  


Jack heard the unmistakable sound of hammers hitting his windshield and the glass fragmenting. It took them several minutes to rip it free and toss it to the side. "We're clear," Sam said, returning to his side. She helped him slide Lorne's coat back out of the car, doing their best to control the glass shards.

  


Jack grabbed the ends of the chain and tossed it through the now empty windshield frame where it scratched its way across the hood of his truck.

  


T leaned forward and picked up the chain, hooking them onto his Jaws. "You know the drill, Cap," he said as Lorne stood beside Sam, the pry bar in his hands. With much creaking and protesting of metal the door popped open, leaving the steering wheel and the seat belt Jack's only obstacles to freedom.

  


Lorne stepped back and Sam pulled a knife, efficiently dealing with the webbed belt. "Okay, T, we're good to go," she said.

  


The Jaws rumbled into life and Jack watched the chain slowly go taught. It pulled at the steering column and Jack felt it shudder and protest.

  


Slowly, ever so slowly, the column began to move, inching its way up. Jack heard a sudden pop and felt his heart lurch when he realized that it wasn't the steering column giving way, it was whatever liquid had been leaking reaching flash point.

  


"GET US A LINE OVER HERE!" Lorne shouted.

  


"Sam, go," Jack urged.

  


"Don't start that crap," she said. "Come on, T, get a move on!" she yelled.

  


T pushed the Jaws a bit harder and Jack found himself lending his own strength – as ineffectual as it was – to the steering wheel. He felt it move slightly and he tried to move. "Almost," he said.

  


Flames popped up through his hood and Jack felt a burst of panic. Damnit, he was NOT going to burn to death.

  


"T!" Sam yelled.

  


T grunted and squared off, lending his own strength to the machine. Jack felt the steering wheel shift a bit more and he tried to slide out. He felt Sam's hands grab his arms and she used her own strength to help him. They clumsily slid out of the truck and she struggled to keep her balance as he lost his own. Nameless hands grabbed both of them, pulling them away from the truck. They stumbled and fell as an explosion washed over them, muffled by the bodies of the other fire fighters as they tried to shield Jack and Sam from the explosion.

  


After a few seconds, the bodies cleared as the fire fighters returned to their primary job of putting out the flaming wreck that was Jack's truck. Sam looked over at him, a shaky smile on her face. "You okay?" she asked.

  


Jack nodded, distracted by the two paramedics that hurried towards them. Aware that they had an audience, Sam moved away to give the men room to work. Jack grabbed her hand, keeping her close for a few seconds. "You know what?"

  


"What?"

  


"I think something's changed," he said.

  


She smiled, squeezing his hand before she let go. "I think it has too," she agreed.

Reassured, he surrendered himself to the not so tender mercies of the two paramedics.

  


XXX  


  


  


_The men of Engine Seven may have been the first to know, but they were far from the last. Jack, right after he was released from his overnight observation in the hospital, stopped by the Chief's office and had a little chat with his boss._

  


_By the end of the week, he was transferred to the Hillside station and he and Sam got to do their best to juggle schedules so that they could have time together._

  


_All in all, it wasn't as difficult as either of them would have thought. They ended up with schedules that allowed a couple of days off a week that overlapped and it wasn't long before he moved into her house instead of his apartment._

  


_There was criticism of course, those that held them up as a prime example of why a gender mixed force was 'just trouble waiting to happen', but, overall, a lot of the other fire fighters enjoyed the romance. For some of them, it gave them hope that they too could find a spouse that accepted the demands and rigors of the job._

  


_A little over a year after Mike Kelly's death, Engine Seven had themselves another full station day off when they all were invited into a first in the city's history, a full fledged fire fighter wedding._

  


XXX  


  


Sam closed the door behind her, taking a moment to revel in the silence. Peace and quiet. "I hope you're not going to make a break for it."

  


She opened her eyes and grinned at her husband. "In this dress?" she asked, plucking at the long skirt. "I wouldn't make it down the block."

  


He grinned and moved towards her, taking her into his arms. "If it's such a bother, maybe we need to get you out of it," he said, raising his eye brows suggestively.

  


"Maybe we do," she agreed, twining her arms around his neck as she kissed him.

  


"Come on," he said, breaking the kiss. He took her hand and led her down the hall to the bedroom. They had chosen not to stay at the hotel where the reception was, instead slipping out and returning to her...their house for their wedding night. It wasn't that they had anything against hotel rooms, but Jack had heard rumblings about jokes or pranks and both of them wanted their first night as man and wife to be for them and them alone. 

  


Especially since they were soon to be working together again. In a way, they'd come full circle and were both probies again. Except this time was them proving that a husband and wife were capable of both working at the same station without their personal feelings compromising the job. It was going to be a lot of pressure for both of them, but something that they thought was worth it, especially if it allowed for them to have more of a marriage than just seeing each other a few times a week.

  


They entered the bedroom and Jack released her hand, his own fingers creeping up to undo the tie of his dress uniform. "Let me," Sam said, stepping forward. She slowly undid his tie, her eyes locked with his. She unbuttoned his shirt as Jack's hands crept to the zipper at the back of her dress. He slowly drew it down, trailing his fingertips along her spine in a way that made her shiver in anticipation. 

  


She pulled his shirt out of his pants and ran her hands over his chest as he pulled her close to finish with her zipper. "You have too many clothes on, hot shot," she teased, nipping at his lip.

  


"Says the woman wrapped up in twenty yards of silk," he teased back, releasing her so that he could slide off his jacket and shirt. He then kicked off his shoes and moved his hand to his pants as she shimmied a bit, allowing the dress to pool at her feet.

  


He gulped and she reveled in her ability to render him speechless as she stood there clad in only a bustier, panties and stockings. "Gotcha," she said, giving him a small shove so that he fell back onto the bed.

  


She clambered on top of him, her knees straddling his waist as she leaned over to grasp his head, her lips claiming his. His hands grasped her waist before reaching up to cup her breasts, barely concealed by the half cups of the bustier.

  


He tried to get under the garment, then turned his attention to removing it, his fingers fumbling at the row of tiny hooks running down the back. She sat back up, steading herself with one hand on his chest for a second before she arched her back, twisting her arms behind her. 

  


She watched his eyes dilate as he stared at her while she undid one hook after the other, finally releasing the bustier. She teased him by holding one hand to her chest to keep the fabric in place for a second before he reached up and gently tore it from her hand, pulling it aside. "God, you're gorgeous," he groaned, his hands cupping her breasts.

  


"And you're a boob man," she teased, not minding in the slightest the magic his calloused fingers was creating.

  


She leaned forward to kiss him again, one hand supporting her weight while her other hand slid between them and under the waist band of his trousers. He gasped into her mouth as she touched him, her fingers wrapping around his semi-rigid length.

  


"Damn, woman," he gasped, breaking the kiss. His hands left her breasts and dropped down to his waist where he made short work of unfastening the belt and the trousers. She raised herself slightly as he arched his hips, pushing his pants down and baring his groin.

  


"Impatient," she chastised, grabbing one of his hands and returning it to her breast. She lowered her hips, rubbing herself against him as she felt her own arousal grow.

  


In a fun little quirk towards convention, they'd abstained from sleeping together for the past week, both of them wanting their wedding night to be something special. And, in this case, absence had definitely made the heart grow fonder.

  


She moaned into his mouth as Jack's hand slipped under her panties, one finger unerringly finding the tiny bundle of nerves as the other teased her, swirling around her opening. She gasped as she felt the pressure build and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the pleasure as it washed over her. Gasping, she collapsed onto his chest, rolling her eyes as the satisfied chuckle rumbled under her ear.

  


She pushed herself up and pinched his chest. "Ow, " he whined in protest. "What was that for?"

  


"Send me more hose, hot shot, cause you're no where near the fire."

  


_And they lived happily ever after._

  


~Fin~

  



End file.
